Cancer Stick
by rockstar1235456
Summary: Draco speaks French and likes his daily dose of carcinogens packed in a filtered paper tube. Harry wishes he could speak French and be half as cool as Draco… Slash? Of course.


Warnings:  Slash!  *grins* As if I would ever write anything else… there's an OC in here, but it's just a teacher, and it's **not based on me and she doesn't teach DADA!  I swear that you'll love her—she's based on a teacher I had in high school.   Oh yeah, it's first person, too.  I really, _really hate original characters, so I'm trying to keep this appearance brief.  This story is just a chunk of clichéd fluff to keep me sane during exams and stuff, and will give me something to do over Christmas break.  I think I'm going to try playing around with different styles as well, so this is just kind of my bitch project for the moment.  _**

Summary:  Draco speaks French and likes his daily dose of carcinogens packed in a filtered paper tube.  Harry wishes he could speak French and be half as cool as Draco… and the French teacher is brilliant, even if she is a little off.

Spoilers:  Let's just say all four books to be on the safe side

This is for Andrew, who makes my day all day every day—yes, in _that way.  He's an ithead, what else can I say?_

Cancer Stick

            I had always sworn to myself that I would never date anyone who smoked.  Actually, I never really knew of anyone who pursued the habit until Seamus started sneaking out of the dormitories with a squarish bulge in the pocket of his pants, only to return later smelling of burnt… something.  After I had identified the source of this mysterious smoky scent, I began to notice who else carried the badge of a carcinogen addict, and was severely disappointed to learn that Cho was involved in their ranks.  I had seen her standing with a group of her Ravenclaw friends one day, flicking the slim white cigarette's ashes to the ground.  Cradling her right elbow in her left palm, her wrist was flicked back towards her shoulder, where a smoldering cigarette was nestled between her index and middle fingers.  She held it clumsily in her hand, and when she brought it to her lips to inhale, she tried in vain to hide the small cough that invariably rose with each breath.  No, it was definitely not an arousing sight.  Then again, the sight of Cho (smoking or not) had become decidedly less sensual for me over the past few months.  I assumed that I was just getting over her, the unattainable dream girl.  How was I supposed to know that my next obsession would be the male counterpart?

            He was just standing there one day, in all his amazingly smug blondish glory, with his pale eyebrows furrowed in concentration while he added precisely five inches of a unicorn hair to his cauldron.  Just standing there, completely oblivious to how striking he looked when his hair fell just so that there was a little bit of fringe barely brushing into his eyes.  I must be gay, I thought, but I don't care.  If being gay means I can have some of that, then I'm all for it.  Sign me up.  

            Of course, there was the slight problem of his personality being made up entirely of vile, but that could be overlooked for now.  Really, everything except his hair could be overlooked, including that fact that his father probably wanted me dead, the fact that he probably wanted me dead, and the fact that I _would be dead if Snape made me drink this potion that I was haphazardly concocting.  That hair should not be allowed.  I can't tell if it's more of silver or gold—every time he shifts, it changes.  I realize that, being sixteen years old, I can be aroused by looking at a road map… but this is beyond mere arousal.  Looking at Draco, I felt like I was experiencing a reawakening of the senses.  Or, I thought, I would like to experience this reawakening of the senses while making wild, passionate, kinky, titillating… stop.  Potion, Harry.  Concentrate on your potion.  _

            @}-----

            Potions was no longer my worst class.  Granted, it was still my least favorite class, but not my worst by far.  Sadly, it really was all Hermione's fault.  She had complained to Dumbledore about the lack of a foreign language program, saying that exchange programs would be much more common if the school would teach the languages spoken in other wizarding schools.  This suggestion led to the hiring of Margaret Brumleve, the American professor that taught French.  

Professor Brumleve was… interesting.  My first impression was that she was clinically insane, but then I began wondering if maybe all Americans were like that.  She ran into class late on the first day of school, carrying stacks of books and generally appearing to be a complete nervous wreck.  Dressed in pumpkin orange robes, she looked as if she had recently discovered Gilderoy Lockhart's wardrobe hidden somewhere within the deep recesses of Hogwarts.  Her large, plastic-framed glasses were perched on top of her head, surrounded by a mass of large, froufy brown hair.  When she reached up and pulled them down in front of her eyes, a large tuft of hair was left standing straight up.  I stifled a snicker, and noticed the rest of the class trying desperately to do the same to their own rising laughter.

This must have been a common occurrence for her, for she immediately reached up and smoothed her hair, muttering, "Zut.  Hair dans l'air."  Smiling at the class (and showing a set of slightly crooked, coffee-stained teeth), she said, "Bonjour, ma classe!"  We stared.

"J'ai dit, 'Bonjour, ma classe!'"  She looked at us expectantly, and then sighed.  "I forgot.  I'm used to my eleves back home.  Je regrette, mes eleves!"  She then started spouting off a small speech, about half of which was in English.  And that was how we met Madame Brumleve, and I knew I would be failing French.

@}-----

No, we haven't seen the last of poor Brumleve.  She'll be around for another chapter or two, and then make a few sporadic appearances every now and then.  By the way, I know my French is horrible.  I'm the Gilderoy Lockhart of French, and I know it!  Franglais, however, I'm quite fluent in, as you can see… hehe!  So please, don't pick on my French.  Anything but my French.  I know there are accents missing everywhere, too, but hey.  I try, believe me.  However, seeing as how I really did learn French from the real-life Brumleve…

Oh, and good old Draco will be in the next chapter.  If he's not in there, he's definitely in number three… if I get there.  


End file.
